


a give and take (and giving and taking she does)

by no_username_requiered



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Bottom!Villanelle, F/F, Post bridge scene shenanigans, Praise Kink if you squint, Sex, Sexy Times, Smut, Soft Villanelle | Oksana Astankova, Theyre gay, but not fully, its a constant give and take, it’s more like eve doing v, submissive villanelle, they fuck, well not fuck but kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:54:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24927280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/no_username_requiered/pseuds/no_username_requiered
Summary: it’s my first time writing sex so be kind pls
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 12
Kudos: 185





	a give and take (and giving and taking she does)

**Author's Note:**

> it’s my first time writing sex so be kind pls

“To my hotel room,” she decided and you let her take your hand and take the lead. Only ten minutes ago you were sure that the bridge would be the end of your story. Little did you know it’s only been the beginning. Then you kissed. All tongue and teeth and biting. You could taste her perfume on your tongue. Her perfume and something so much her that it made you dizzy for a second. 

You’re walking along the sidewalk hastily now, her hand hot, holding tight onto you, pulling you along. 

You can’t remember anything besides her, pure intoxication. Clouding your mind. 

You snap back into yourself when the door of her room slams shut and you’re pushed against the cool wood. Her thigh wedges between your legs and, _GOD_ , yes, you grind down in search for more. And then she kisses your neck, bites down. 

You hear her moan, deep and guttural and so entirely primal. It’s surprising you, and her lips aren’t on your skin anymore, her hot breath gone and turning everything winter. 

And when you look up you meet her eyes looking at you in amazement. It wasn’t her moan, you realize then. 

It was yours. 

Her distractedness is your advantage. You tighten the hands around her waist ever so slightly and push her towards the bed. You don’t care for the size of it. It’s a bed, what more could you want? 

When the back of her knees hit the frame, she gasps as if she’s not been aware of what’s been happening. Lost in marveling at the sounds she managed to elicit from you. 

You lift your right hand from her hips and lay it on her collarbone, pushing her down, down, down. Sit down. Lay down. Let me have control. 

You tower over her. And the look in her eyes is not fear exactly but also not trust. 

Trust me, you think. You can trust me. I won’t hurt you again.

So you lean down, hands left and right of her shoulders, right leg between hers. You lean down and stop mere inches above her face. She eyes you, gaze flitting left right left. Her exhales are heavy and hot, they cling to your skin. 

“Eve,” it’s higher pitched than normal, and you know in that moment that she is just as aroused as you. It’s all it takes for you to close the distance and kiss her again. Softer this time. Her lips are pink and pliant, and they give, as much as you take. They give, give, give, always more. 

The inside of her mouth is everything you dreamt of. It tastes like vanilla, like Roman centurion, like _her_. Always like her. 

You let her be in control for a moment. Let her roll you over and let her lay on your chest as you continue kissing. Kissing and nothing else. Your hands find their way to the nape of her neck and inches further down on her back. You pull her closer. Closer and closer until you are one. 

Until you decide that you want more. That you want to give. Need to give. She’s driving you insane. 

You put your right leg at an angle, foot firmly planted on the mattress. You still have your shoes on. You don’t care. You just need to give her, something, you want to give her everything. So your hand wanders to her hip and you push her in direction of your leg. 

She gasps into your mouth when her core makes contact. She freezes, unfreezes, grinds down once, twice. She quickly finds a rhythm and doesn’t stop. Her eyes don’t leave yours. Even as she pushes herself up on her hands, her upper body lifting up from yours. You move your other hand down to her waist and hold her there, steadily. 

Briefly, you wonder who exactly is in control. It’s a steady give and take. Two way street. Maybe neither of you has to have the upper hand. You quite like that, you think. 

You feel how her rhythm starts to get unsteady, only the slightest, and she’s still looking at you, gasping. 

Close your eyes, you want to say. Close your eyes. Trust me. 

Instead, you angle your leg even higher. And if her hands balling up the sheets next to your head, if her quiet whine and her rhythm that is starting to lose itself, are anything to go by, you know it all won’t be enough. 

You tighten the hold around her waist and let your leg drop on the bed. She whines louder this time, chases after your leg, her climax, once, twice. Wants to lower herself but you hold her in the air. 

“Take your clothes off,” you order. She complies. Lowers her body to her knees, sits on your thigh and sheds the coat. Sheds the coat and the top and her bra and your hand immediately cups her right breast. It’s full and pliant and perfect. 

“Beautiful,” you rasp and she presses her thighs together as much as your leg between them allows. 

She likes that, you think. Of course she does. 

You squeeze at the soft flesh in your hand, the other arm reaching you behind her neck to pull her down again. You kiss her, savor her. And then move your head to kiss her breast. Lick over her nipple, bite down. She gasps again. Soft and high pitched, different than the others. 

You do the same to other one, lick and nip while massaging the one you can’t pay attention to with your mouth. 

She is grinding down again, more on the air than on you and you remember what you were in the process of doing. You roll her over again. 

Her hairdo had come loose, blonde hair now messily splayed on the pillow, the pillow that seconds ago your head had laid. 

You ask if you can take her pants off, she nods. You pop the button hastily and pull the tight denim from her thighs. When you spot her underwear, spot how _soaked_ the navy blue lace is you think you are actually going to lose your mind. 

So wet, you want to say. You want to touch and taste and do indescribable things to her.

“All for me?” You ask instead. She nods in return. “God, that’s so hot, baby,” you add and she bites her lip, suppressing a moan. 

“You like that?” You ask it out loud this time. She nods almost frantically this time. Staring at you, observing you. 

Yes yes yes.

Her eyes never leave you.

You want to tell her to trust you. 

“Close your eyes.” You try to make yourself sound soft but you don’t really ask. She gasps again, her hands trembling. Her head shaking no. 

Okay, you think. Okay. 

”Okay.”

You kiss her instead. Soft and innocent, let her take the lead. Show her that you don’t hurt her. Not unless she asks you. Then your mouth wanders, you kiss her neck and nip and bite, you leave bruises that later will cover her like splashes of watercolor. Wanders to her breasts again, groping one while you lick over the nipple of the other. Her hips buck beneath you, begging for your mouth to be somewhere else. 

You want her trust, want to earn it, so you do as she asks. Don’t let her wait. You kiss down her toned stomach, linger on the scar, kiss down lower. 

Your fingers wrap around the lace and her hips lift inches from the bed. You pull it down over her legs, legs that are shaking already. Her hands are grasping the sheets tightly, trying to stay in control. 

You ask her where she wants to be touched, what she needs, what she wants. 

“Everywhere,” she answers. “Hands and mouth and tongue. Touch me. Please, Eve. I want to be good for you. I want— I need— please.”

Her sentences barely make sense but you understand. 

She opens herself wider and you come face to face with her. She is art, you think, sculpted from marble. 

You tell her as much. 

“Please.” 

It’s all it takes to lick the wetness from slit to clit, slow and deliberate. Her moan is high pitched, her hands clawing at the sheets. You look up briefly to tell her that she’s allowed to touch. Hands are in your hair immediately, pulling your face down again. You tell her that she’s allowed to do anything. That she’s a good girl. 

You lick her clit again, the top of your tongue circling experimentally to figure out what she likes. You know it’s not enough to make her cum so you push your index and middle finger into her throbbing cunt. You curl the tips of your fingers, twist inside her wet, throbbing heat until you find the spot that doesn’t feel like the rest. You start pumping then, in and out, faster, if her tightened grip in your hair is anything to go by. You suck on her clit, then let your tongue run over it.

Her hips start moving on their own accord so you slip one arm under her thigh and press the palm of your hand flat on her stomach. Stay still. Her movements still then and you want to tell her how good she looks and how well she is doing but you can’t stop indulging in her. 

She is so wet that two fingers barely do the job. You insert a third one. 

“Eve,” she gasps. Breathlessly. Eve eve eve eve eve. Your name like a prayer spilling from her mouth. 

You lift your head only to tell her how beautiful she sounds. Can’t resist not saying anything any longer. 

Her eyes are closed, she is biting her lower lip hard, droplets of blood starting to pool already. 

And then she comes. Her hips roll into the air and then all movement stops and her breath hitches in her throat, gets stuck there and she comes. Comes all over your fingers, your hand, your chin. You lap up everything she has to offer. Consume it almost greedily and lick her clean. 

When she comes off her high, her eyes are still closed and you come to realize that you’re still wearing all of your clothes. You remove your coat and turtleneck and bra, and shoes. 

She opens her eyes briefly, maybe thinking you’re about to leave now that you might’ve gotten what you wanted. You climb into bed again. Take the naked woman in your arms, hold her, kiss her. Her arms snake around your midriff. You pull the blanket over both of you. Hold her closer. Kiss her again. 

Trust me, you say. And trusting she does.


End file.
